Goodnight Saigon
by Made Nightwing
Summary: Into the Valley of Death, rode the brave six hundred. She is called Ruthless, a Butcher. It is a title she never deserved. Taylor Shepard remembers Torfan
1. Chapter 1

**Goodnight Saigon**

**I don't own Bioware or Billy Joel. I do own a copy of 'Piano Man', which I play so often that my mother eventually put a lock on the piano.**

'_And we were sharp, as sharp as knives. And we were so gung ho to lay down our lives.'_

SSV MIDWAY

IN ORBIT OVER TORFAN

2178

"Listen up boys and girls," Staff Lieutenant Taylor Shepard slapped her Gunnery Chief on the back. "This chunk of rock is Torfan. There's going to be a battle here today. Our enemy has chosen to cower here, preparing to come out in the dead of night and kill our colonists in their sleep. Well…WE'RE GOING TO KILL THEM FIRST!"

SEVEN YEARS LATER

NORMANDY SR-2

COMMUNICATIONS ROOM

"I knew it was a mistake trusting you," The Illusive Man angrily swallowed his bourbon in a single gulp. "Too reckless, too fixated on your personal glory to be a real asset to Cerberus, to humanity!"

Taylor lit up a cigarette. "On the contrary, if I had been out for my own advancement, I would have saved the bloody base. As it was, I had no choice but to destroy it. I can't trust you, or humanity for that matter, with that kind of power."

"Really?"

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"Lieutenant Shepard, are Alpha Company ready to go?" Major Kyle had an amused smile on his face as he surveyed the cargo bay. The tall, dark skinned, square jawed officer could have stepped straight out of a recruiting poster, his neatly pressed fatigues stretched over his burly frame. His aide scuttled behind him. Corporal Kitch, too short to be in the infantry, too much spirit to be a cook. Everyone liked the tiny orderly, most considered him to be the mascot of the 501st Light Infantry Brigade.

"Are we ready?" She grinned back at him. "NINJAS!"

"WE RULE THE NIGHT!" Alpha Company, 1st Battalion. 'The Ninjas' roared back. The troopers Taylor commanded suited her fighting style. An infiltrator by trade, her men were all cross trained in sniping, stealth, electronics and first aid in addition to their regular skills. Combined with 2nd Lieutenant Clancy, an Adept class biotic, and Alpha Company was the most versatile unit in the whole 1st Division, at least in Shepard's opinion.

"Did we get the beachhead sir?" Taylor asked eagerly. Kyle nodded approvingly. Taylor had spent her whole career in the Alliance under Kyle's command, ever since the Major had been a Lieutenant Commander. The two had formed a father-daughter bond, since Kyle had no children of his own and Taylor was an orphan. He had trained her as a soldier, sat on the selection board for her Officer Candidate School application, and taught her to be a leader. He had groomed the uncouth kid from the streets of New York into tough, focused young woman, destined for her own division some day.

"Sissy wanted it for her boys, but General Wallace said it's our turn to be the bride," Kyle handed Shepard her orders. "Your Ninjas are the first wave, neutralize these suspected gun posts, clear a landing zone for the rest of the Brigade. Staff Commander Colt brings his artillery down after us, so our LZ's have to be suitable for his big guns to set up."

The Fighting First was a typical frontier division, a perfectly balanced fist capable of punching through the toughest enemies, and a strong, solid body able to hold the ground it took for months on end. Two infantry brigades, the 501st under Kyle and the 452nd under Major Charissa Shoka. One armored cavalry brigade, the 10th under Major Marion Diggs, equipped with Mako Infantry Fighting Vehicles and Cosgrove Main Battle Tanks. One artillery regiment, 81mm and 120mm mortars, 155mm and 195mm howitzers and a dozen Multi Launch Rocket Systems. Add the various air support and transport squadrons and it came to nearly 20,000 men and women, armed to the teeth, pissed off, and looking for a fight. With all the orbital fire support that the Midway and the other frigates would be raining down as soon as it was called in by the Forward Air and Forward Orbital Controllers, nothing the batarians did could possibly hope to stop the massive punishment that would shortly be descending on them.

"I won't let you down Papa Kyle, sir," Taylor promised, using the affectionate nickname the soldiers had stuck on their commander. "Would you care to address the men before we leave?"

"Of course," Kyle stepped up on the hull of a Mako. An age old tradition, the CO giving a few words of encouragement and inspiration to the soldiers about to go into battle, Kyle was all about tradition. "Alpha Company, Attention!"

Shepard's chosen two hundred and fifty ceased their preparations and turned their eyes towards him. "You all know why we're here. Two years ago, Elysium, the jewel of our species was viciously attacked. That attack was planned, rehearsed, and launched from Torfan! They planned to burn it to the ground, lure in and ambush our fleets and teach our species a lesson! But did they get away with it?"

"NO!" they roared.

"They did not!" He agreed. "A handful of brave men and women took up arms, and defended their homes long enough for help to arrive. Some of you were there with me, you saw the chaos, the brutality, the mindless violence. Well enough is enough, we've been in the line for only five months, but this battle has been two years in the making. We've tracked them to their lair, and now they cower in fear, because they know what awaits them!"

"OO'RAH!"

"You will kill the enemy where he stands, you will drive him down into his holes and you will burn him back out!" Shepard felt herself filled with the same kind of fire as her men. If Kyle had gone into politics, he would have been the President in no time. The way he spoke inspired confidence. "When people speak of this day, they will remember the bloody vengeance that we wreaked upon our foes. They will remember the righteous wrath with which we fell upon them. But for now, I ask that you remember courage, remember honor…and REMEMBER ELYSIUM!"

"REMEMBER ELYSIUM!" The Ninja's thundered.

"Godspeed, good luck, and good hunting!" he snapped off a salute, and then stepped down.

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"I fail to see what your actions at Torfan have to do with destroying a Tier One asset," The Illusive Man had calmed himself, his momentary loss of temper forgotten as he leaned back in his chair.

"We were arrogant, convinced of our invulnerability," Taylor sat down on a metal beam that had fallen across the comms room floor. "Ever since Elysium, it had been one victory after another, tearing through well trained, but badly equipped rebels like a varren in a pack of pyjaks. We didn't realize that the guys holding Torfan were the ones who trained everyone else. Every one of them was former Batarian Special Forces, with years of military experience and with the best equipment the Hegemony could offer. We just didn't know."

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"…I will be your stewardess, slash company commander for today," Shepard paced down the long corridor of the Wolcott class Landing Ship. "Otherwise known as first on/ last off. Today we will be serving shredder and armor piercing rounds from our delicious M-6 Avenger menus, followed by our main course, all your can eat Batarian. I hope you all like alien cuisine."

=Thirty seconds to landing= the pilot's voice came over the intercom. =These bastards got my cousin at Elysium, give 'em hell for me=

The loadmaster dropped the ramp, and Shepard caught her first glimpse of Torfan. Barren rock for the most part, the atmosphere was too thin for any plant to sustain itself. The air, although thin, was safe to breathe, but they had been warned to keep their breather helmets on, a necessary precaution with the amount of physical exertion that the marines would be doing over the next few hours.

Taylor crouched by the door and reached for her sniper rifle. "Get your game faces on! Let's take the fight to…

"RPG, RPG!" The loadmaster screamed as she pointed to the red ball of fire approaching the dropship. The rocket struck the bird amidships, throwing Shepard out the back of the landing craft. The loadmaster should have gone as well, but her safety cord, meant to prevent her from falling out, did exactly what it was designed to do, dragging her along with the landing craft as it crashed in a ball of flames.

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"You're saying I'm arrogant," The Illusive Man seemed amused.

"I'm saying that I know all too well the dangers of assuming the role of Almighty God," Shepard met his gaze, unflinching as his cybernetic implants glared at her. "When the day of reckoning arrives, as mine did at Torfan, it can be a most sorry day indeed."

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"LT? Come on LT, get up!" Shepard felt herself being dragged along the rough ground.

"Enough," she coughed slightly, noticing for the first time that her helmet was gone, as well as her breathing unit. "I can walk."

She looked up into Clancy's nervous eyes. "Mr. Clancy, sitrep?"

"We lost four birds coming in, those that made it to their LZ's got shot up by some fixed heavy machine guns in those bunkers." He looked around nervously, his biotics sparking, probably with fear. "Lieutenant Tam was the only platoon leader to make it, and he got his head taken off by a sniper a few minutes ago."

"What about the rest of the battalion," Taylor felt for her sniper rifle, and was dismayed to find it missing as well. Her Volkov X Long Range Weapons System, nicknamed 'Tanya' was her pride and joy, capable of penetrating shields and amour at extreme ranges. "Where's Lieutenant Commander Collins?"

"Most of the other companies got hit worse than we did, they waited for our first birds to pass their guns so they could catch more of us in the kill box," Clancy passed her his own sniper rifle, an Avenger IV. It was like asking Michelangelo to use cement instead of marble, but she was in no position to be choosy about her weapons. "Lieutenant Commander Collins didn't make it. Most of the company commanders got hit as well. I heard Staff Lieutenant Casey's cobbling together what's left of Fox, Delta and Echo to make a strike on the North Bunker, try and get those AA guns offline before the rest of the brigade tries to land."

"How many Ninjas?"

"Roughly a hundred, but we've got another fifty guys trickling in from the Bravo and Charlie LZ's. We've got some 82mm guys, but they've lost their mortar tube. Casey's got about two hundred still fighting, and about half that number wounded in an LUP (Lay Up Point). Battalion surgeon's dead, but the medics are doing their best," Clancy was so scared he felt like pissing his pants. "We're pretty fucked up LT. You think it's FUBAR?"

"We're not at FUBAR yet," Shepard could see the outline of the South Bunker in the distance. "Papa Kyle's still got the rest of the brigade up there, plus the Tenth Cav and the Four Five Two. Let's go get those guns, make way for the reinforcements."

"Yes ma'am," Clancy tightened his grip around his shotgun. Shepard patted him on the shoulder.

"You've done a good job, and you're now a 1st Lieutenant," She stood up, and activated her boom mike. =Alright Ninja's, let's go earn our pay=

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"Oh we earnt it alright, we burnt those batarians out with incendiary grenades, got to the control center and deactivated the AA fire. Didn't lose a man doing it, I trained them well." Taylor balled her hands into fists. "Casey wasn't so lucky, her whole command was from different units, her officers broke down under fire, the Chiefs did what they could, but they could breach the bunkers. Didn't have the same kind of training or equipment my Ninjas had."

"Staff Lieutenant Lauren Casey," The Illusive Man commented. "You were at OCS together?"

"That's right, Lauren didn't know how to give up," Shepard grinned slightly. "She picked thirty men and went to each gun individually. Blew them up with C-12 satchel charges. She took fifteen bullets and kept on going, pulled the pin on the grenade and jumped into a gun pit. Received a posthumous Cross of Valor."

"That's something I've never understood," he lit up another cigarette. "If you had already taken out the guns, why were casualties so high?"

"We only got the command centers for the Triple A batteries," she mimicked his posture. "They had plenty of other guns. Mortars, howitzers, machine gun nests, minefields, fixed GARDIAN turrets that could reach all the way up into orbit. And enough anti-tank rockets to blow up the Collector Base…twice."

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"Where's the Major?" Shepard grabbed the radio operator and shook him. The hollow eyed private stared back up at her.

"Back there someplace," he jerked his thumb in the direction of a burning Mako. Shepard began to walk, when the soldier latched onto her hand. "I just go word from the 10th Cab, Major Diggs sends his regrets but he can't land his MBT's here, and he won't risk sending in the rest of his IFV's. We just got sold down the river."

Shepard's heart sunk. With their 210mm 'Bunker Buster' guns, the Cosgrove MBT's could have leveled the playing field. "Keep that radio going, see if you can get some air support in here."

She couldn't see Kyle at first, and then she spotted him slumped next to the burning vehicle, he was holding something in his arms. He was crying like a baby. Shepard saw it. "Oh shit," she whispered. It was Kyle's little orderly, Kitch. He was dead, covered with blood and horribly mangled. Kyle was rocking the body back and forth.

"Sir," Shepard took a run and slid to a halt next to Kyle. "Sir, you need to get to cover."

"He's dead Taylor," Kyle sobbed. "He threw himself on a grenade meant for me. They're killing my boys Shepard; these animals are murdering my kids."

"Sorry Skipper," Shepard pulled back Kyle's head and slapped him across the face. His nose broke and blood spurted out. Blinking several times, he glanced around, and then gently lowered Kitch's broken body to the ground.

"Lieutenant," he said calmly, as if nothing had happened. "Where's Staff Commander Baker?"

"I saw him back there, he had a big hole in his chest," Taylor handed Kyle a pistol. He cocked it mechanically.

"What about Lieutenant Commander…

"He's dead, she's dead, she's also dead and we couldn't even find Commander Darrowby's body," Shepard took a deep breath. "We have maybe two battalions worth of troopers still fighting sir, we have no senior officers, only Lieutenants. We're running out of ammo, medi-gel, and time."

"Then lets get this turned around," Kyle pushed himself off the ground. Tears were still leaking from the corners of his eyes, but for now, his sanity had returned. "Private Grippe! Get that radio over here; put me in contact with the battalions. Shepard, we're going up front, I want you to take a battalion and start pushing forward. You're a Staff Commander now!"

Shepard began to feel a glimmer of hope; maybe they could win after all. Kyle was back in the fight. The 'Old Man' had never failed his men yet.

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**A/N: I love being on holidays, so many different stories that I can work on.**

**I envisioned Torfan as being similar to the 6****th**** Marine Regiment landing on Saipan during WWII. Hundreds of men died within minutes, the 6****th**** Regiment practically ceased to exist, yet they took thousands of Japanese soldiers with them.**

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed and encouraged my previous stories. Without them, I wouldn't have kept writing.**


	2. Butcher or Hero?

Goodnight Saigon

Chapter Two: Butcher or Hero?

I don't own Bioware.

'_We came in spastic, like tameless horses.  
We left in plastic, as numbered corpses.'_

TORFAN

GRID CHARLIE SEVEN OSCAR

2178, H HOUR + 2

=Stallion Actual, this is Ninja Alpha= Shepard lifted her monocular and peered over the rise. =Ghost Recon One Eleven reports Four K bad guys plus change massing in a ravine to the southwest of OP Dorothy=

=Ninja confirm, did you say four thousand batarians= Colt pressed his receiver tight against his ear as his 155mm batteries thundered behind him.

=Affirmative, Charlie Six Oscar through Delta Nine Bravo. Dial in your 195's with sabot rounds and fire on my mark. My battalion is deployed at both ends of the ravine. Give me a full salvo, and they'll rush out both ends, straight into our guns. Command's going to have more prisoners than they know what to do with= Shepard saw Clancy sprinting over the hill, successfully outrunning a mortar shell that exploded behind him. =And can you shut up those screamers? They're bugging the hell out of us=

=Working on that Ninja Alpha= an MLRS roared behind, sending it's six rocket barrage arching into the sky. =We've been playing tag with their artillery for half an hour now=

The Firefinding LADAR was designed to track the trajectory of incoming shells, and then calculate their launch angle, leading the gunners on an MLRS right to the location of that particular battery. Once the co-ordinates were locked in, the Montgomery Missile System took care of the rest.

=I've only got one battery of 195's and they've been firing non stop since we landed= Colt locked in the target on the firing computer. =I'll repurpose two extra batteries of 155's and direct all available mortars to you as soon as you need them=

=Roger that Stallion, Ninja out= Shepard handed Clancy a water canteen. The young biotic was breathing heavily, he had been throwing singularities and tossing up barrier's all morning, not something even Adept's did for fun. "What you got Clancy?"

"We got 'em on the run Commander," he reported gleefully. Now the unofficial battalion XO and a temporary Staff Lieutenant, Clancy felt on top of the world, like he had been tested and proved to be a warrior. "Papa Kyle's striking out toward the main bunker system with the other battalion. Diggs has his tanks on the move, they're wiping out what's left of the gun emplacements toward the north east. 452nd will be landing her first companies within the hour, Midway and the Coral Sea are coming in for atmospheric landings. Kyle thinks once we take these guys prisoner, the rest of the batarians will give up without a fight. Nothing standing between us and victory but a white flag 'Staff Commander'."

"Good, let's ring this bell," Shepard lifted her radio back up. =Stallion, Stallion. Fire mission, fire mission, all six guns. On previously established co-ordinates, shoot by numbers=

"FIRE!" Gunnery Chief Klink jerked the lanyard. The balding NCO felt the ground tremble as his precious Betty discharged her lethal load for its thirteen kilometer journey.

Taylor heard the shells whistle overhead and grinned in satisfaction as it exploded in the valley. She could practically hear the bands playing, imagined listening to the President reading their commendations as he pinned Stars of Terra to the chests of her, Kyle and Clancy. She'd get her own brigade for this, and her own Major's stripes to wear on her shoulder. Thanks to her and Kyle, Torfan would be a victory and not a defeat.

Of course, she'd personally write a lot of the condolence letters to friends and family. This had been made possible only by the relentless determination of those who had thrown themselves at the batarians. Now it was time to finish what they had started.

=Recon One Eleven to Ninja Actual, there are two squints and a skull face heading toward the ravine exit. They look to be holding a white flag=

Shepard frowned. A turian? It made sense in a way, a lot of bitter veterans from the First Contact War were often found aiding batarian raiders. Revenge for a war they had never finished.

=Let them come out Recon= she ordered. Turning to Clancy, she gestured forward.

"You want me to take their surrender?" Clancy was surprised. That honor should surely have gone to Shepard.

"You've more than earned it Tom, and besides," she slapped him on the shoulder. "I'll take a picture that you can give to your parents, the press and the history books. 'Lieutenant Clancy accepts the batarian surrender at Torfan, signifying the final defeat of the Batarian Hegemony's illegal war against the Alliance.' This is your moment, and that's your white flag."

"Thanks Big T," he stepped over the crest of the OP and began striding down toward the mouth of the ravine. Two batarians and a turian stepped from the entrance and began walking towards him. They met halfway.

=Get your cameras everyone= Shepard joked. =Something like this probably won't happen again=

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2185

NORMANDY SR2

BRIEFING ROOM

"And that," Taylor bitterly flicked ash from the tip of her cigarette. "Is when things really went to shit."

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"Our commanding officer does not speak human and our translators are malfunctioning," the batarian carrying a white flag presented it to Clancy. "We are willing to discuss the terms of a surrender. First, no harm must…"

Clancy took the flag, a bit of rag tied on the end of a broken metal spar. "You'll shut up and listen while I tell you the terms. All your troops are to throw away their weapons and shield generators, then they will…"

The turian drew a hand cannon from a holster behind his back, extended his arm and shot Clancy twice in the chest. The nineteen year old officer, two months out of the academy, opened his mouth, gaped at the sight of his own blood, and fell backwards. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"YOU FUCKERS!" Taylor's sniper rifle was already out; she shot three times in quick succession. As the three 'surrendering' pirates fell, an overeager private yelled into his radio headset.

=Shit, they're fighting back. Everyone shoot!=

The gunner on an 82mm light mortar heard the transmission, and then dropped the projectile down the tube. It was as if someone had flicked a switch, first the mortar platoons discharged their light anti-infantry rounds, then the 155mm batteries spat their High Explosive and White Phosphorous, and finally the 195's heaved their monstrous sabot rounds right into the mix.

The batarian's were caught like rats in a barrel. Troops who had been uneager to continue fighting began pushing out both ends of the ravine, thinking that the human marines meant to kill all of them. Nervous foot soldiers on both sides began exchanging shots.

=Cease fire! CEASE FIRE!= Shepard was too late. Training was forgotten as the younger troopers blazed away on full automatic, not staggering their bursts as they had been taught. Their heatsinks wailed in unison, they scrambled for their sidearms as the batarians fell upon them. Whole platoons were overrun in seconds.

=Stallion, adjust your fire twenty degrees both ways, danger close, fire for effect= The phrase was a signal for all batteries to fire simultaneously. The artillery fire shifted with the charging batarians, the heavy shells landing at the entrance to the ravine, the light mortar rounds bursting just in front of Taylor's position. Some of her own men were caught in the shrapnel. Explosives didn't differentiate between friend and foe.

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"So many stories about you slaughtering batarian prisoners," The Illusive Man seemed amused. "And all it was, was a few trigger happy grunts on both sides."

"I sometimes debate finding a sample of that turian bastard's DNA, and cloning him just so I can kill him again," Shepard stood up and began stretching her legs. "Lost the better part of two companies finishing them off."

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Out of the corner of Taylor's eye, she spotted the two batarian's clambering into her firing pit. The barrel of her sniper rifle was already turning. The first batarian flew through the air as the high caliber round struck him dead center in the chest. The second kicked her rifle out of her hands as he jumped on her, knife raised high.

She slid her head to the side, flinching as the blade grazed the side of her face and buried itself into the dirt. The batarian was breathing heavily, his eyes wide as he tried to pull his blade back. Taylor grabbed his wrists, brought her legs up, placed them against the four eyed alien's shoulders and pushed. His arms dislocated with an audible *pop*.

Shepard snatched the knife out of the dust, then descended, blade first, on the batarian, murder in her eyes.

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"There are some Cerberus Operatives for whom the story of you slitting the throat of a batarian prisoner, and your troops finding you covered in his blood, was their inspiration for joining Cerberus," he poured himself a drink.

"I doubt a short, savage fistfight has quite the same air to it," Taylor checked her cigarette case. Empty. She began wishing for one of Zaeed's slow burning cigars.

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The four wheeled LRV pulled to a stop. Taylor stepped off the back and surveyed the scene before her. Death was all her eyes could find. Alliance soldiers blown to pieces, three Cosgrove MBT's burning fiercely.

"What happened here?" she grabbed a stumbling corporal by the shoulder.

"Minefield, we walked right over a minefield," he muttered, eyes staring straight ahead. "There shouldn't have been any mines, intelligence was one hundred percent sure that this route to the main bunker was clear. We rolled in full force. Makos, MBT's, three companies on point, two on each side, three at the rear. They just waited for us to get right in."

"FUBAR," Gunnery Chief Reynolds pulled himself out of the LRV (Light Reconnaissance Vehicle) driver's seat. "This whole fucking mission was FUBAR from the start."

"Where's Major Kyle?" Taylor ignored the noncom.

"His leg got blown off, medics reported a lot of concussive trauma to his cranial area. They popped him on a stretcher and carried him back to the LUP," the private shrugged. "Papa Kyle was screaming for Kitch, Commander Darrowby, you, anyone. He snapped once that first mine went off, completely lost it. Ordered a bayonet charge, then a retreat, and finally cursed us all for being cowards before a Bouncing Betty went off a few feet away from him."

"Where are you headed?"

"Orders came through from the Midway. General Wallace wants us to pull back, let the Navy boys finish the job now that we've pinpointed their locations. Orbital bombardment." Feeling that he had fulfilled his duties, the soldier began walking toward the LUP.

"So that's it?" Reynolds spat out a wad of chewing tobacco and stuffed another into his mouth. "My pals died so that the Navy can come in and claim they won the whole thing?"

"No," Taylor whispered as she stared at a human leg lying next to the LRV. "We've paid for this chunk of rock, paid in blood. We're the ones that are going to collect."

"How?" the NCO climbed back behind the wheel. "You'd need a battalion plus fire support to take the main bunker system. They've got half a regiment down there if Intelligence is on the ball."

"Maybe not," Taylor got into the gunner's seat, pulling a map up on her omni-tool. "These are schematics provided by a batarian engineer we captured a few months back, he helped work on the place. The bunkers are climate controlled, they have to be, they're too far underground. The conditioning systems are operated from a separate control room. Batarians need more oxygen than we do, more lungs. And they're more susceptible to carbon-dioxide poisoning."

"Your point," Reynolds started the engine.

"We gain access through these vents at the far end of the base," Taylor highlighted her proposed route. "Go through access shafts, a few main corridors, take over the control center and fuck around with their precious climate until they beg for mercy."

"You'd still need a sizeable force," the Gunny pointed out. "At the very least a few platoons trained and specialized in CQB. Our best guys are already dead, and the ones that aren't are scattered and disorganized."

"Jack Lang still has his Ghost Recon platoon together," she began scanning through callsign frequencies.

"Ma'am, they're scouts, not grunts. I doubt any of them even have shotguns."

"They'll have you and me, what more do they need?"

"I'm going back to the LUP to wait for extraction," Reynolds turned the wheel. "If you want to go off on another bullshit FUBAR mission, well that's your prerogative ma'am."

"That's it?" Taylor glared at him. "You're just going to run away? Not willing to finish what you started?"

"Not running, driving," he corrected. "And I'm simply not that keen on assisted suicide."

"Fine!" she snapped as she climbed out of the LRV. "I'll go my fucking self. See you in hell Gunny!"

Reynolds watched as Taylor began jogging toward the recon platoon's current holding point. Five kilometers on foot, another three clicks to the bunker beyond that. "Gardening," he muttered as he nudged the accelerator. "Should have gone into gardening."

He pulled the LRV up beside Shepard. "Well if you're batshit crazy enough to get this shit done, I guess I am to. Hop in, let's crack this motherfucker open and go home!"

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**A/N: I had this crazy idea today, what if Bioware gave ****Kaidan a haircut. Just a completely random thought, maybe he wouldn't be hated on so much if he had a proper Marine haircut, high and tight. I also wouldn't object if his voice actor and face model was Sam Worthington. Think about it.**

**Love it? Hate it? Tell me in the reviews or I won't have a clue.**


	3. These Chains We Make

Goodnight Saigon

Chapter Three: These Chains We Make

I don't own Bioware

'_We met as soul mates, on Parris Island,_

_We left as inmates, from an asylum.'_

**NORMANDY SR2**

**BRIEFING ROOM**

**2185**

"You only saw Kyle once more after the fighting was over, didn't you?" The Illusive Man was handed a pad from an assistant. "Right before the hearing started, you visited him."

**ARCTURUS STATION**

**ONE WEEK AFTER THE SIEGE OF TORFAN**

**SICK****BAY**

"Hey sir," Taylor self consciously ran a hand over her shoulder length blonde hair. "Sorry I haven't been down to see you yet. It's been a little crazy. Debriefings with General Wallace and Vice Admiral Hackett. Getting what's left of the brigade squared away. Making my recommendations for promotions, postings, and commendations. I'm sorry sir, but they're splitting us up. Not enough of the 501st left to make reinforcements worthwhile. Not sure where they're sending me yet, I suppose that'll depend on the hearing."

Kyle didn't answer. His life support machine kept beeping, indicating his powerful heart was refusing to quit, despite the devastating injuries to his body. The surgeons assured Shepard that his lost left leg would be easily replaced with a prosthetic, and that brain damage would be minimal. But he had been in a coma for more than a week, and there was no telling when he'd come out of it.

"I've recommended that Casey get the Cross of Valor, Clancy for the Star of Gallantry…and Gunnery Chief Reynolds for the Star of Terra," Taylor squeezed her eyes shut.

**TORFAN**

**MAIN BUNKER SYSTEM**

**THIRTEEN HOURS AFTER INITIAL LANDINGS**

"Pull back now!" 2nd Lieutenant Lang barked as the batarians pressed in on what was left of the Recon Platoon. "Ma'am, we need that door open!"

"Working on it Lieutenant," Taylor cursed slightly as the system's firewalls closed in on her probe. "No good, Ryan, get me some omni-gel."

"I'm down to my last few units ma'am," the private inserted the tip of the dispenser into the lock. There was a squidging sound as the omni gel squeezed into the mechanism, and then a whine as the nanites began eating at the lock.

"We're through!" Shepard slid the door open. "Lang, get your ass back here now!"

"Negative ma'am, the lock on that door's ruined, it won't hold the squints off," the young officer gazed back. "Go ma'am, get to the control room, kill these bastards. I'll stay with Joyce and Beaumont, buy you some time.

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"I didn't see guts like that again, till Gunnery Chief Williams told me to get my ass moving at Virmire, while she blew up the damn base," Taylor clenched her fists, wishing desperately for another cigarette. Maybe it was time to quit. She couldn't afford the distractions that nicotine cravings spread through her body. "The squints guessed what we were up to, threw up blast doors between us and the climate control center. And everyone we got to…"

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"Door's open, let's go!" Ryan charged through, fumbling for another dispenser.

"You keep on trucking," Corporal Morgan knelt behind an improvised barricade. He placed his pistol, rifle and grenades within easy reach, then plucked a cigarette from a hidden container. "Zhang and I will keep them busy."

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"'And I will fear no darkness, for my brother shall guard me, as I shall guard him'," The Illusive Man quoted.

Shepard nodded in agreement. "They were magnificent. Unbending, unyielding. If Ashley was right, if there is an afterlife…then those guys would have marched into it with backs straight and heads held high."

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"Last door, Ryan, crack it!" Shepard ordered as she dragged a pair of crates into position for her and Reynolds. "Sanderson and Fern can't hold that intersection for much longer!"

"Working on it ma'am," Ryan hooked up his omni tool. "No more omni-gel, have to do this one manually. It'll be worth my magic."

The clatter of M-6 Avenger rifles suddenly ceased. In the distance, Shepard could hear the thud of booted feet charging down the hallway. "Well don't take all day about it," she reported tersely.

The first two batarians to come around the corner was cut down by Taylor's sniper rifle. The heatsink whined as she switched to the Firestorm VII shotgun that Reynolds had given her. The Gunnery Chief had his own Hydra X ready. They began firing in tandem, Reynolds with Disruptor rounds which would short out the most powerful shields, Shepard with Hammerhead rounds, inflicting the maximum amount of damage on shielded and unshielded targets alike.

Seconds turned into hours, minutes turned into eternity as Shepard depressed the trigger on the shotgun, again and again. It was the perfect chokepoint; the batarians were unable to get good angles on them. The occasional shot that did get through bounced of the shields of Shepard's Scorpion class, light hardsuit.

"Jammed!" Reynolds reached for his pistol. "Shit, we're gonna run out of ammo blocks faster than they run out of bodies."

A voice rang over a loudspeaker. =My name is Commander Rovin. I know what you are trying to do, you will not succeed. You will not be able to break the encryption on the blast doors=

"Ma'am, he's right, I can't get through," Ryan whispered, a series of lights flashing, indicative of another failure. "We're out of options."

"Not yet we're not," Taylor passed Reynolds her shotgun. "Let me take a look at it."

=I believe we should end this now, while we all still have a chance at getting out of here with our lives= the batarian commander continued. =I know that even if I kill you, there are more than enough Alliance ships and troops to completely trap me here. But I have enough supplies to last me for months, and it would cost humanity many soldiers to finish me off. Maybe we could come to some sort of agreement?=

"You want to talk? Send one of your guys out, unarmed! We'll do this face to face!" Reynolds yelled.

There was silence. Timidly a batarian poked his head out past the corner. Reynolds nodded encouragingly. The four eyed alien nervously began walking toward the three humans.

*BANG*

"Anyone else wanna negotiate!" Reynolds worked the pump action. "I can do this all day!"

"No good," Taylor banged her hand on the door. "Too many layers of encryption."

Ryan calmly picked up the jammed shotgun. "I think I know how to fix it ma'am," he suddenly slammed the butt of the weapon into the holographic interface and the lock behind it. "I JUST THIS MOTHERFUCKING DOOR TO OPEN SO I CAN FUCKING GO HOME AND END THIS FUCKING, FUCKING DAY!"

Without warning, the red interface flashed orange. =Warning, damage to auto-lock mechanism detected. Opening doors to allow repairs= A VI calmly stated.

The doors only opened twenty inches, but it was enough to allow Ryan to squeeze through, followed by Shepard. A few batarians still manned their posts. One of them threw up his hands, babbling in fear, begging for mercy. Taylor killed him first, and then moved on to the rest. Turning back to the door, she saw Reynolds still manning his post.

"Gunny, get your ass back here!" she yelled over the gunfire. He glanced back and nodded.

"Soon as we're in business!" he called, finishing off an unshielded slaver with a double tap.

"We have to seal this door! GET MOVING!"

"Alright, alright, don't get your pretty pink panties in a twist," the Non-Commissioned Officer stood and began to run for the door. A batarian leaned round the corner and blazed away with an assault rifle. A lucky round struck Reynolds on his ankle; he fell to the ground five meters away from the door.

"SHIT!" he tried to get back on his feet. With no more suppressing fire, the batarians swarmed into the corridor, shooting wildly. Taylor couldn't go to her friend. He looked up; she saw the fear, desperation…and acceptance. "Damn you Shepard, I'll see you in hell."

"Save me a good seat," Taylor activated the manual lock. The seals closed together with a hiss. Reynolds rolled onto his back, drew his emergency grenade, pulled the pin, and held it under his chin as the batarians swarmed around him.

Shepard felt a tear slide down her cheek, she brushed it away. Tears were for civilians, not soldiers. "Ryan, you have the systems online?"

"Roger that ma'am," he brought up the interface displaying the oxygen flow. "All we have to do is increase the carbon dioxide backwash and they'll be unconscious in a minute. Setting the return to twenty five percent."

"No!" her voice was like splintering ice. "Higher."

Ryan peered at her over his shoulder, his voice was nervous. "How high?"

"One hundred percent."

"Ma'am," Ryan seemed more scared now than he had in the corridor. "That will kill them."

"Well done Mr. Ryan, I knew you were a PFC for a reason," Taylor walked toward the console. "It's alright, I'll do it myself. Out of the chair."

The tech scrambled out of the way. Shepard began inputting the new parameters of the environmental systems. It barely took thirty seconds to set up. Thirty seconds to kill the better part of five thousand aliens. Her hand hovered above the activation button. The camera feeds showed the batarians outside the door, some running to fetch demolition charges. They would be far too late.

"Ma'am, this is murder," Ryan stammered.

She activated the switch. "This is war."

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"Probably the only part of my reputation that I deserve," Shepard slipped her gauntlets off. "I didn't give a fuck about the moral ramifications. Those batarians deserved death, so I gave it to them."

"I believe we scouted you as a potential Cerberus recruit after that," The Illusive Man brought up the file. "The director of our recruiting cell decided you were too high profile, recommended waiting a few years."

"That's ironic, if you had offered me the job then, I would have taken it," Shepard shook her head. "Such is life."

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SSV EVEREST

DEBRIEFING ROOM

TWO HOURS LATER

"Acting Major Shepard?" General Wallace gave her a slap on the back. "Well done lass. Over ten thousand batarians dead, and that's just the preliminary body count. Intel thinks there's over three thousand more KIA in those tunnels."

"With respect sir," Taylor gingerly sat down on one of the Navy standard seats. "I wouldn't trust Intel to accurately estimate the security of an Illium brothel, much less do anything worthwhile inside it."

The General's smile became a little tighter. "Yes, I was informed about the faulty reports. Still, you reacted damn well considering the circumstances."

"**We **reacted well," Shepard countered. "Major Kyle kept his head on straight sir, kept the air-support and medevacs coming in. Got our armor on the move, kept everyone calm and level."

"Until he was wounded," Wallace sat down next to Shepard. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Sir?" Taylor didn't want to talk about anything; she wanted to find a spare rack and sleep.

"We find ourselves in a devilishly complicated situation," the General handed her a padd. "Between the 501st and the 10th Cavalry, over five thousand of ours are KIA."

"10th Cav didn't do shit sir, most of the guys on that list are mine," Shepard spat.

"I understand, the trouble is, those boys and girls being body bagged out there have families, and those families are going to want a reason why there sons and daughters aren't coming home."

"I already told you sir, Intel screwed us over," Taylor protested. "The enemies strength, weapons, positions and determination were all underestimated. We weren't prepared."

"Major, you were a Lieutenant this morning, so allow me to explain to you how the world works," Wallace stood back up. "At the Little Big Horn, it was Major Benteen. At Mogadishu, it was General Garrison. At Shanxi, it was General Williams. Whenever soldiers die in unacceptable numbers, in victory or defeat, the general population needs someone to blame. A scapegoat to vent their anger on. Someone who made the wrong call, at the wrong time. It can be for any reason, cowardice, incompetence, arrogance, instability…"

"What are you suggesting sir?" her voice was deadly calm.

"Victory or not, we have five thousand caskets to fill," Wallace clasped his hands behind his back. "I was in orbit, unable to communicate with my people on the ground. I had no say in minute by minute decisions made by my ground commanders. That is what I will be telling the tribunal. What will you be saying?"

"General, I'll be telling them that my men fought bravely and that…"

"You will either be telling them," the grey haired human cut her off. "That Major Kyle lost his nerve and threw wave after wave of troops at unassailable positions, and after he was disabled, you courageously took command and managed to win despite the odds against you. Or the tribunal might surmise that a young, smart and ambitious Lieutenant gave herself a string of field promotions and tried to make a name for herself, at the expense of her men."

Taylor was silent for a moment. "Major Kyle does not deserve this. He's fought for a long time. He's got more medals than half the general staff combined. Even if he lives, he'll never be the same again. Not after what happened down there."

"Which is why he'll be quietly retired, with full pension etc." Wallace turned toward the door. "I've seen it all before. Just say your part and go back to your career. You're a hero now Shepard, you need to act like it."

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ARCTURUS

SICKBAY

"…and that's how it is sir," Taylor leaned back in her chair. "I screw you over or Wallace screws me over."

She resisted the urge to rub at the bandage underneath her eye. The medic had gone to rub medi-gel on it, Taylor had refused. She wanted the cut to heal naturally. "Sir…I need a Hail Mary real bad sir."

"Major Shepard?" an orderly entered the room. "I was asked to tell you that the board is almost ready."

"Thank you," Shepard stood up and smoothed the wrinkles on her dress uniform. She rested her hand on Kyle's shoulder. "It was fun while it lasted sir."

She had the speech in her pocket, the 'regretfully took command after Major Kyle's breakdown', the whole spiel that Wallace wanted. Taylor would lie her ass off to the Admiralty Board, present Major Kyle to the media as a sacrificial offering and receive a nice fancy medal, plus a confirmation of her promotion.

Kyle's left hand suddenly grasped Taylor's. She looked down to see his eyes open and staring at her. "Taylor," he whispered. "Did we win?"

She swallowed a lump in her throat. "We won sir."

"That's good," his grip relaxed. He exhaled easily. "You did good Shepard. I'm proud of you kid, you got the job done. Knew I could trust you."

Taylor couldn't look at him. "Yes sir, I'd never let you down sir."

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"Alright, let's bring this meeting to order," Admiral Alicia Collins, Judge Advocate General of the Alliance Navy, took her seat. Eight other staff officers took their places to the left and right of her, General Wallace was among them. "Major Shepard, this is a formal hearing, but be as direct as you can. I have no time for bullshit. Captain Mason?"

"Major Shepard, this hearing is to determine the reasons behind the unacceptable losses at the recent…"

"Pardon me," Taylor interrupted, her arms clasped behind her back at parade rest. "I was not aware of any unacceptable losses."

A deathly silence fell over the room. "Major Shepard," Rear Admiral Harper spoke softly from the far end of the table. "Thousands of Alliance soldiers died taking Torfan."

"The mission's primary objectives were completed sir," Shepard assumed a curious expression. "We won."

"The objective of the mission was to take Torfan with minimal casualties and retrieve prisoners for interrogation and prosecution," General Alexander slammed his fist on the table. "We wanted to send a message!"

"A message was sent sir, in the form of fifteen thousand dead batarians." The men and women in the observation stand began murmuring in surprise.

Admiral Collins leaned forward. "It was our understanding from General Wallace's report that Major Kyle snapped and ordered the 501st to advance under heavy enemy fire, right into a minefield?"

"General Wallace was mistaken ma'am, I gave those orders. Major Kyle didn't approve of my methods, but we weren't going to win that fight sitting around waiting for enemy artillery to pick us off. I did the right thing ma'am. The Hegemony isn't going to forget this anytime soon."

General Wallace muttered something into Admiral Collin's ear. She nodded and tapped her gavel. "Major Shepard, you may leave now. This board will now discuss your testimony."

**TEN MINUTES LATER**

"You just shot yourself in both feet, your kneecaps and both hands for good measure," Wallace snarled as he exited the courtroom. "I had them primed to accept a quiet dishonorable discharge for Kyle, and then you went and screwed it up. What were you thinking?"

"Sir, I was thinking that I want Major Kyle to retire with dignity, with his honor and his name intact." Taylor handed him a padd. "My own resignation will have to suffice."

Wallace barely gave the document a glance. "You don't get off that easily Shepard. The crazy thing is that some of those Admiral's are on your side. 'Blood and Guts' Thornton wants to make you a General."

"Well I'm flattered but I'm not a big enough asshole for the job," She had to restrain a grin as Wallace turned a bright shade of pink.

"Keep making jokes **Lieutenant** Shepard. Maybe the other office workers will like it."

"Office workers sir?" her heart sank.

"Half of them wanted you up in front of a full JAG court for a heavily publicized trial and conviction; the other half wanted you back on the front lines. Admiral Collins and I negotiated a middle path. You accept an immediate demotion to 2nd Lieutenant, a transfer to Admin and Logistic Support here on Arcturus, quietly serve out the rest of your contract and retire in two years with an honorable discharge, good recommendations to any Private Military Company or secretary service, the whole shebang," Wallace paused. "And I had to fight them to get you that."

"Your generosity is astounding," Shepard unpinned the Major's bars from her tunic. "Military life was starting to get boring anyway."

Wallace shook his head in amazement. "You know Shepard; I hope you have lots of children. So in sixty years you can tell your grandchildren how you straightened your back, squared your shoulders and shook your fist at your career. Because the closest you're ever going to get to rank is making coffee for senior officers who should be shining your boots. I hope you think Kyle's good name was worth it. Dismissed."

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**TWO WEEKS LATER**

**ADMIRAL KELLY'S OFFICE**

"This is your post," the white haired Lieutenant Commander indicated an un-occupied desk and terminal. "Whenever Admiral Kelly sends out a general order, your job is to proof-read it for spelling and grammar errors, then relay it to the dispatcher for issue to the rest of 5th Fleet. Any questions."

Taylor didn't answer, just slipped into the chair. Lieutenant Commander Peters gestured at the left side of her chest. "You don't need to wear those in here Lieutenant. No one's going to be impressed with service bling, the brass coming in and out have a lot more."

Shepard bristled. Her Master Combat Infantryman's Badge, Distinguished Combat Star, Legion of Courage, a dozen other commendations plus her sharpshooter and marksman's ribbons, N1 and B7 qualification badges, were not 'bling'. "Uniform regulations state all medals and accoutrements are to be fixed on the uniform at all times sir," she replied stiffly.

"Suit yourself," the career administrator shrugged. "We're a bit informal about how we dress up here. Admiral Kelly's an easy boss, just make sure you get your reports in on time, remember to keep the coffee hot and don't gossip about his smoking habits and he'll let a lot of things slide. Welcome to H Section Lieutenant Shepard."

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"I keep this," she pointed to the scar underneath her eye. "To remind myself that actions have consequences. That is a lesson that you need to learn before I can trust you."

The Illusive Man nodded. "What happens now?"

"I'm heading for Illium as soon as the Normandy's ready for the jump," Shepard replied. "I'll see if I can help Liara with her Shadow Broker problem. After that? Who knows? I'm a Spectre, acting on behalf of the Council. They won't help me prepare for the Reapers, but Saren had the resources to fight his own private wars, even without the geth. With a few credits, some eager recruits and a fuck load of thermal clips, there's no reason I can't do the same."

"Your own private empire Shepard?" The Illusive Man smiled ironically. "It's harder than it looks. You need some very devoted allies to make it happen."

"There's squad you gave me to start with, Admiral Anderson on the Citadel, still ready to fight the good fight, Liara on Illium with her information network, Wrex and a slowly unifying Krogan government on Tuchanka," Shepard smiled. "Oh and a Rachini Queen that I released on the sole condition that she'd return the favor some day when I needed her. I think I've got plenty to start with."

"Well, if you ever need me, you know how to get in touch," The Illusive Man began to cut the connection, and then paused. "By the way, how did you get out of that office?"

"Story for another day," Shepard turned and walked out of sight. "Joker, lose this channel."

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**A/N: OK, show of hands, who'd like to see Taylor escape from desk jockey hell?**** I am eager to do a sequel if that is the case.**


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